The Weakness in Me
by No One Mourns the Wicked
Summary: Elizabeth was never afraid of piracy. What she feared, really feared, was him. JE


The rain caught in her sheer veil like gnats in a spider's web, seeping deeper into the fabric. She waded in the soaking, muddy grass with her wedding dress bent under her. The bouquet of once beautiful and fully bloomed roses was barely clutched in her numb, pale hand, and she listened with head bent to the _chink_ of the unused china and the whistle of the cold, wet wind.

Footsteps; movements from large, heavy boots. Elizabeth barely lifted her head, afraid that it wasn't him. Then the predominant noise ceased, and she had no choice but to turn. One glance at him and her eyes went slowly wide, but she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing anything other than disappointment in her face.

She turned back around, her eyes facing the sea. "Your not Will," she stated plainly.

Elizabeth could _feel_ his smile. "No, love, I'm not, and _very_ grateful not to be confused with the eunuch."

The young woman only lowered her head, and Jack frowned. "Let me guess," he said, putting his pointer finger thoughtfully against his chin, "said groom did not show up to collect his bride." Jack craned his head to get a better look at her expression. "Didn't even walk you down the isle?" he wondered in mock astonishment.

"Why are you here?" Elizabeth asked sharply.

Jack grinned and opened his arms. "I came for the ceremony!" he explained, watching for her reaction with amusement. The young woman only glared at the scenery ahead of her.

"Well, you're a little too late. You can go back to your ship."

Jack puckered his lips a little and furrowed his brow as he stepped beside her. "And you're, ah," he began, throwing occasional glances down at her, "just going to stay here, are you? What if he never comes? Then again, what if he does come? You'll be so sick from all this rain you'll have absolutely no strength for the honeymoon, which would be a real shame by me."

Elizabeth gave a quick, barely restrained smile. Then she frowned, and dropped her bouquet to twist her hands together in agitation. "This was supposed to my day," she admitted sulkily. "Now it's raining… I don't even know where he is."

"Yes, terribly tragic," Jack agreed, lowering his heavily jeweled hand lightly on her shoulder. Elizabeth looked up at him.

"Where do you think he's gone?" she asked.

Jack looked at her sympathetically. "If I knew, I would have gone to get him myself. But, as it stands, I have no clue as to where your dear William has run off to."

"There has to be a reason," she said firmly, shaking her head. Raindrops flew off her pale skin. "Do you think he's in trouble?"

"One can only imagine," Jack answered.

For a moment, they were both silent. Then Jack stepped in front of her, arms out, hands beckoning. "Come on, love. You can't stay out in the rain forever."

Elizabeth eyed him, pausing before finally sighing and giving him her petite hands and ring-less fingers. She swayed slightly on her feet; the dress was far weightier than it had been on her first walk down the isle. "Are you going to tell me what you're really doing in Port Royal?" she asked. "I have to admit I have doubts about you coming all this way just to see us joined in holy matrimony."

They walked quietly out of the rain together, and under the shelter of the stone walkway. Jack leaned against the railing and stared out at the broken wedding scene. Elizabeth copied his actions.

"I came to stop it, you know," he told her.

"My wedding?" she asked with a skeptical face and teasing smile. Jack nodded in confirmation. "Really?" Elizabeth narrowed her eyes playfully.

Then Jack Sparrow stepped in front of her, too quickly and all too closely. His eyes were locked on hers, dark and unusually intense. "I'm glad, you know, that the eunuch didn't show. Nice of a lad as Will is, he really isn't for you."

Elizabeth let out the shaky breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "Oh, is that right? Please, then, by all means, point me to my perfect suitor."

Sparrow's eyes widened and narrowed, and he held up a hand to gesture with as he spoke. "You prefer the type that's free. As free as you long to be, with little ties to society or convention, all that prim and proper rubbish. You want someone who would go to the ends of the earth for you, all for you. But that's only what you want. What you _need_ is someone clever, knows what he's doing, and can put up with your selfish little attitude. Someone who will hand you the rum, _and_ drink it with you. Indulgence is who you are, believe it or not. You do what you want because you gain something from it; I admire that. And you're decently good looking, so what you need is a man who equals—nay, exceeds—your outward expectations. The man you need—" Jack stepped back a little, laid both his hands against his stomach, and proclaimed smoothly, "Is me."

Elizabeth grinned and shook her head. "That was a lovely analysis, Captain Sparrow. Unfortunately, you're more than a little off," she informed him.

"Oh?" He seemed intrigued. "How so?"

"I'm going to marry Will," she smiled triumphantly.

Jack smirked as he glanced from her face to her left hand. "Were. Or are you still planning to? Either way, I see no ring."

Elizabeth took her hand from his sight and hid it behind her back. "It'll be there soon enough," she countered.

And suddenly he was too close again, and she was still backed up against the railing. Jack took up his hand and trailed his rough and calloused fingers along her throat, feeling her flinch and finally relax. Why wasn't she pulling away? She should be, had every right to, and had more than enough reasons to resist him. The distance between them grew steadily shorter until the space was barely visible. Her eyelids slowly shut as he leaned down, eager and real and… and not Will. Not the groom on her wedding day.

Only Captain Jack Sparrow.

His lips fell onto hers, weathered and dry, and somehow all she wanted was to feel more of them. To taste the unattainable, even when she was nearly married, because she was selfish. He had been right, then, hadn't he?

"Jack," she whispered, moving her mouth away from his. When she opened her eyes, the rain and the walls and the wrecked wedding service all fell from sight.

She was in her hammock, lounging in men's clothes aboard the Black Pearl.

Elizabeth glanced around at the dark and dirty setting, ignoring the shrill of continuing snores from her crewmates. She stretched the features in her face, shook her head fervently, and fell back against her pillow. The dream stung as it flooded her mind, the imagery so vivid and the taste still hovering above her mouth.

As if it weren't bad enough that the compass had begun pointing to him, or that her thoughts were constantly turned to him, now she was _dreaming_ about him. Elizabeth shook her head; the dream held no consequence, and she knew she would never deceive Will on their wedding day.

"Bloody Jack," she murmured, crossing her arms. After passing a few more minutes glaring at the damp, creaking ceiling, she sat up again, and this time pushed herself off the hammock. Elizabeth felt completely awake now, so what was the use lying amongst loud and dirty sailors if she couldn't sleep well or even at all? Slowly and quietly, she made her way up the stairs, swaying slightly as the boat rocked.

There were two, maybe three sailors stationed on the deck, all either oblivious to or uninterested in her entrance. Elizabeth walked across the deck in her boy's garments, stopping at the railing to gaze out at the lapping water. There was something incredibly calming about the motion of the sea, something soothing in the water's salty smell. Everything about her surroundings seemed to embody an ultimate freedom, a great contrast to the stuffy life she had endured growing up in Port Royal. Jack had mentioned something like that once, in one of his drunken ramblings; he had explained to her that the Black Pearl was more than just a ship. It was freedom.

And standing there in her loose cabin boy clothes, staring at the endless sea gathered around her, she felt she understood him.

Where was he now? She wondered. Most likely in his cabin, feet up on the desk, looking over some stupid parchment with a bottle of rum in one hand and that damn compass in the other. She pictured the scene and had to roll her eyes. That was him, all right.

Just as Elizabeth put her face in her hands, resolved to rest her eyes, new, or at least heavier, footsteps graced the deck. The sound reached her ears and she opened one eye lazily. A finger tapped three times on her upper back and she jumped, her body becoming rigid.

"Jack!" Elizabeth spun around and fought the urge to hit him.

"Hello, love," he greeted her.

The young woman sighed and turned back around, resting her body against the ship's side. Neither spoke when Jack stood beside her, copying her actions, his eyes also on the sea.

"How much longer, Jack?" she asked, and her voice held an underlying exhaustion.

"Depends, dear Lizzy," he answered. "But as long as you hold the compass and I captain the ship, it's certain we'll get there sooner or later."

Elizabeth felt her eyes soften when he called by her nickname. It had been enough of an obstacle getting Will to call her by her first name, so she would never push a shortened version from him. She would just allow Jack to say it, and for some reason that was enough.

"Why are you out here?" she wondered, knowing very well she should have had to answer for that question.

"Couldn't sleep," he told her with a shrug. "Bad dreams, nightmares… but I'd feel a lot better if I had a lovely woman in my cabin to tuck me into my bed," he added, leaning towards her with pleading eyes.

Elizabeth smiled but pushed him away. "Get Gibbs to do it," she countered.

Jack wagged a finger at her. "Not as much fun. He'd throw my blanket at me and stagger out the door, whereas _you_—" He stood behind her and trailed his rough hands across her throat, pulling loose strands of hair over her shoulders. "Well, I can only imagine," he said into her ear.

Elizabeth tried desperately to despise him when he touched her like that, but she only stood still. She tried to imagine it was Will behind her with his hands on her shoulders, but her thoughts faltered and eventually came back to Captain Jack Sparrow.

"Jack?" she asked, suddenly inquisitive.

"Hmm?" he answered, his fingers still tracing the collar on her shirt.

"Can I confide in you?" Her tone was serious, and that intrigued him. He stared with narrowed eyes at the back of her head.

"Of course, love. What is it that you want to tell old Jack?"

Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, her gaze dropping the wet wood of the deck and back to the sea. "The compass…" she began, "It's not… it isn't pointing to the sea anymore."

His eyebrows rose subtly and he leaned in, his whole body coming closer to hers. "Oh? Does that mean it has a new target?"

Elizabeth shook her head dejectedly. "I don't know," she lied.

Jack slid his hands off her shoulders, brushing her arms before letting go completely. He leaned against the railing in front of her, his eyes brightened by the eerie light of the moon. "Well, that's not very good news, is it? Suppose I could always throw it to another crewmate, but you never know what really lies in the hearts of some men. Are you sure it won't work?" he added.

"Yes," she answered, and her voice had dropped. "Jack…"

"What is it, Lizzy?"

The nickname was too much. Everything about him was overpowering in that moment, and all the words and confessions that had bubbled and rose in her throat stood against her tongue, teetering on the brink of in her mouth and not.

Frightened and unshed tears stung in her eyes when she divulged: "It's pointing to you, Jack!"

Elizabeth watched him for only a moment, noticing how her confession seemed to have seized and relaxed his body in a barely noticeable succession. His eyes were slightly narrowed and slowly he pushed himself off the railing and stood straight. She looked away, the sleeve of her shirt pressed hard against her nose.

Jack leaned down, his face nearly against hers. "No worries," he said calmingly. "It'll pass."

Elizabeth stared into his eyes, puzzlement settling over her features. "What do you mean?"

"Girls always fall for the devilishly handsome pirate," he explained, but the teasing in his words didn't quite match his tone or the look in his eyes. "Let me assure you, however, it is a feeling that easily passes."

Elizabeth was still bewildered by his reaction. He wasn't taking advantage of her, as she had expected. He was even comforting her, almost steering her away from what he had dubbed as a bad decision. Maybe her assumption was right; maybe he was a good man, after all. "Thank you," she said quietly, and Jack looked down. Elizabeth had gently laid a hand on his arm.

"Thank you," she reiterated, "for not doing this."

Elizabeth was on her toes before Jack could do anything other than fall against her. Her mouth crashed onto his and he pressed back, his arms coming to rest around her waist. The kiss was strangely slow, full of a quiet passion that was alien especially to the captain. Jack deepened the kiss as he backed her up against the railing, mumbling "Lizzy," as they broke apart for only a moment.

Norrington's scathingly truthful words resounded in her ears. Will's pleading eyes broke into her thoughts, too. But Jack was staring at her now, and his voice and his face drowned out both men.

Whatever uncertainty had lingered in Jack's features beforehand had vanished with that kiss, and now his expression was strangely…happy?

"You always were too fond of me," he said with a smile, and the corners her mouth perked up, too.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, love," he answered, lifting up her chin and lowering his mouth, "not terribly bad."

* * *

A/N: Well, that my attempt to write for my new fav pairing. Hope it wasn't too bad. Comments would be apreciated. Thanks for reading!


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